Panpack Beacon Hill

 

We met, as we do, at Beacon Hill—this time to a smoky start. Hands wrapped around steaming mugs of coffee, we shared stories and laughter as the morning gathered itself around us. Maggie had us in stitches recounting her recent holiday aboard the Blue Train in Zimbabwe, her vivid tales painting bright pictures against the muted morning haze.

Meanwhile, Enoch was burning on the Western Heights side, and smoke billowed thickly into the sky. The landscape became soft-focused and ghostly, wrapped in a haze that made everything feel dreamlike and distant.

Deciding to escape the smoke, we headed a little further up the hillside and began botanising from Panpack. It proved a wise choice—just one week after our last walk, the grasslands had transformed. Where we’d once trudged through knee-high dry grass, we now wandered freely through a green flush—lush and alive after welcome rain.

The landscape told a layered story of contrast. New, verdant grass pushed confidently through a carpet of blackened leaves. The visual palette suggested autumn more than spring—fire and renewal locked in a quiet, seasonal dance.

Western Heights in smoulder—ash and sky blending into a smoky veil.

Rust coloured leaves after the burn.

Pondoland CREW

Anne admiring a beautiful rock that are millions of years old.

The Msikaba sandstone rocks scattered across the hillside were striking in their character, as if sculpted by time. One couldn't help imagining them in a garden, perhaps with a hollowed bowl collecting rain for bathing birds.

The flowers were a joy, even at this early stage of their awakening. In the grassland, we found a scattering of botanical gems beginning to stir with colour and life: Ursinia tenuiloba, Othonna natalensis, Gerbera ambigua and the ever-striking Senecio speciosus.

Ursinia tenuiloba
ASTERACEAE
South African endemic

Othonna natalensis 
ASTERACEAE

Gerbera natalensis
ASTERACEAE

Senecio speciosus
ASTERACEAE

Scattered among them, Gazania krebsiana gleamed yellow. At a glance, it could be mistaken for Hypoxis angustifolia—both share a similar height, yellow flowers, and slender leaves—but careful observation reveals the difference.

Gazania krebsiana
ASTERACEAE

Hypoxis angustifolia
HYPOXIDACEAE

We found Helichrysum odoratissimum and Athrixia phylicoides already in seed, while on the rocky outcrops, the last of the Crassula nudicaulis blooms held on, their leaves reddened by stress.

Crassula nudicaulis
CRASSULACEAE

Emerging confidently through the damp soil, the first fresh leaves of Merwilla plumbea kraussii promised a spectacular show in the weeks to come. These hardy bulbs, often growing in rock crevices or seepage areas, never fail to impress with their resilience.

Merwilla plumbea kraussii
HYACINTHACEAE


Ornithogalum juncifolium
HYACINTHACEAE

We paused often to inhale the heady perfume of Tricalysia capensis, its creamy-white flowers filling the air with their sweet scent. In stark contrast, Eriospermum mackenii pierced the charred earth with vivid red stems—startling against the blackened soil. Nearby, Acalypha peduncularis unfurled its miniature, strawberry-like blooms, delightful to the observant eye.

Tricalysia capensis
RUBIACEAE

Eriospermum mackenii
RUSCACEAE

Burchellia bubalina
RUBIACEAE

Acalypha peduncularis
EUPHORBIACEAE

Ledebouria revoluta
HYACINTHACEAE

Signs of wildlife always enrich a botanising walk. We found spoor of Grey Duiker and Reedbuck etched into the soft earth, and fresh porcupine droppings marked a well-used trail heading toward the forest. Martins flitted through the smoky air, feasting on tiny midges.

A startled troop of baboons barked aggressively upon spotting us. They had clearly been feasting on Watsonia densiflorus—torn bulbs and tubers scattered as evidence of their destructively thorough appetite.

With contented hearts and dusty boots, we cheerily said our goodbyes—already counting the sleeps until we’d botanise together again.

Uschi, Alf, Hiliary and Anne.

At the gorge’s edge, a weathered Ficus—likely Ficus sur—was beginning to bud, the early signs of spring visible on its twisted limbs.

Tracy looking down to the river below and embracing her love of nature.

Pondoland CREW
Gail Bowers-Winters, Maggie Abbott, Dorothy McIntyre, Anne Skelton,
Hiliary Henderson, Uschi Teicher, Tracy Taylor and Alf Hayter

"Indigenous flowers carry the memory of the land—they’ve weathered fire, drought, and centuries, and still they bloom."

Let this be a quiet reminder of resilience, beauty, and the joy of walking gently where wild things grow.